


Love Is Blind (But the Giant Squid Isn't)

by CourtingInsanity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Hogwarts Inter-House Relationships, Party, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 10:47:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingInsanity/pseuds/CourtingInsanity
Summary: A Christmas 'inter-House unity' party in the Slytherin dungeons and a bunch of jinxed jumpers. What could possibly go wrong?





	Love Is Blind (But the Giant Squid Isn't)

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Ugly sweater party

Ginny Weasley was going to kill Hermione Granger. 

As if it wasn’t bad enough that she was spending Christmas without her family, she had been dragged along to the lamest party Hogwarts had ever seen. She knew that Hermione meant well; the brunette had her work cut out for her as Head Girl just a few months since the downfall of Tom Riddle. Ginny wouldn’t have wished that burden on anyone, but Hermione was managing all of her responsibilities with commendable grace. 

Ginny was still annoyed she had to attend this farce of a Christmas party, though. After the solemn feast in the Great Hall, she had wanted to return to the Gryffindor common room and curl up with the Gwenog Jones biography her parents had gifted her. Instead, she was perched on the arm of a black leather arm chair, watching Hermione attempt to engage Ernie Macmillan in conversation. 

Ginny smirked to herself; House unity may be the order of the day, but she happened to think McGonagall - and Hermione - were trying to shove a square wand through a round hole. Granted, she was currently sitting in the Slytherin common room - something that she would never have believed possible, even two months ago - but the idea that the other three houses could be in the snake pit without the ghosts of the war following them, was almost laughable. 

Almost. 

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” an all too familiar voice sounded from over her left shoulder.

“Zabini.” Ginny scowled at the Italian wizard. 

He grinned at her, looking far too handsome for his own good. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief and an undertone of something Ginny could never quite place. Shivers rolled up her spine and she fought the urge to squirm; her precarious position on the arm of a leather chair meant that one wrong move would send her into the lap of Luna Lovegood. 

She narrowed her eyes in what she hoped was an effective signal to the end of the conversation, but Zabini paid it no mind. He settled himself on the other side of the armchair, and Ginny waited for Luna to comment, but the blonde witch was deep in conversation with Neville and seemed oblivious to the enticing smell of the Slytherin git’s cologne. 

He smirked and Ginny swallowed a groan. “What do you want, Zabini?” She ground out his name through clenched teeth, but this only seemed to improve his mood. 

“I haven’t seen much of you this year,” he said. “Can an old friend not enquire as to how you’re doing?” He arched an eyebrow deliberately and Ginny fought hard to keep the heat out of her cheeks. 

She may not be with Harry anymore, but that didn’t mean she was going to explain her breakup - however amicable - to the likes of Zabini. She had made the mistake of opening up to him once, and the whole thing had left a bad taste in her mouth. 

It had been during her fifth year at a Slug Club dinner party. She had never particularly enjoyed the parties hosted by the Potions Master, but one evening stood out in her mind as downright awful. She arrived late, after arguing with her then-boyfriend, Dean Thomas. Hermione had been speaking, she recalled, as she entered the room, and Harry had turned to look at her for the briefest of seconds as she sat down. 

Her heart sank; the argument had been about the Boy-Who-Lived himself, but he never seemed to look at her in any way other than his best friend’s silly younger sister who at one time couldn’t even form a sentence in front of him.

Zabini had nudged her shoulder and offered her his ice cream, waving a freezing charm over the mostly-melted dessert before sliding the crystal bowl towards her. Ginny tried to decline, but he insisted. The rest of the evening was blurry thanks to the steady stream of Dragon Barrel Brandy, but she did remember blubbering into the front of his dress robes later, after the party had finished. He had comforted her and then walked her back to the common room long after everyone had gone to bed. 

Since then, she had felt embarrassed for spilling her deepest fears and emotions to a Slytherin, and vowed never to be so vulnerable in front of another person again - save for true friends and family, of course.

“Come on, Sparky,” he said, referencing the Merlin-awful nickname he had given her that night. 

She ground her teeth together audibly, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. “I’m not a dog, Zabini.”

“No,” Malfoy chimed in coolly, “but you are a bitch.” 

Ginny whipped around to face the sullen-looking blond wizard, who had materialised seemingly out of thin air behind their armchair. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he glared back passively. 

“Don’t mind him.” Zabini waved a hand elegantly before Ginny could spit back. “He’s sexually frustrated.” At that moment, Hermione appeared looking flustered. “Ah, look Draco!” he continued with the air of a magician who had successfully conjured a rabbit from a hat. “A solution to your problem?”

“Go fuck yourself, Zabini.” 

“Ah, sorry mate.” Ginny was torn between sheer frustration and amusement as Zabini winked at Malfoy. “I’d love to help, but you know I don’t swing that way, handsome as you are.” 

“Blaise,” Hermione cut in, her cheeks a deep pink. “I think it’s time for your announcement?” 

Zabini checked his watch. “So it is!” He stood gracefully from his seat and straightened the deep blue jumper over his trendy Muggle chinos. With a final, lingering look at Ginny, he disappeared. 

“Thank you,” Ginny muttered, shaking her head. “He’s a nightmare.” 

“I don’t know.” Hermione shrugged. “I think he’s charming.”

“You’re barking.”

Hermione sighed. “He’s easier to deal with than Malfoy.”

“I noticed our Head Boy seems rather tense this evening; what’s up his arse?” 

“I wish I knew.” Hermione ran a hand across her forehead. “He’s been in a foul mood ever since McGonagall asked us to plan something to encourage unity between the Houses; I know he wasn’t keen on the party idea, which is why I agreed to it being held here —” she waved a hand vaguely around them “— but he’s still acting like a petulant child.” She craned her neck and growled out loud. “And now he’s arguing with Zabini - I should have known he’d try to sabotage Blaise’s surprise.”

“Well, good luck with that.” Ginny stood and stretched, intending to refill her glass with more Firewhiskey. 

Hermione offered her a half-hearted smile and then disappeared, but before Ginny could take another step towards the drinks table…

“Gather ‘round!” Zabini called. 

Ginny groaned, turning on her heel to see him standing in front of the Christmas tree, spreading his arms wide. His cocky grin only served to grate on Ginny’s nerve, but as the crowd surged forwards, she had no choice but to follow them.

She tried to catch Hermione’s eye; at no point had the brunette witch mentioned anything about a show, or presents, or anything that would require Ginny to stand in front of a smug looking Slytherin, fighting the urge to slap the look off his damn face.

Hermione wasn’t looking at her; she was chewing her bottom lip and staring openly at the Head Boy, whose expression would have been priceless in any other situation. His brow was furrowed and his lips set in a straight, thin line. A tic was working in his jaw, and his arms were clenched so tightly across his chest Ginny would not have been surprised if he cracked a rib. 

It’s a sad day indeed when one empathises with Draco Malfoy, Ginny mused, turning her attention reluctantly back to the Italian who was now rubbing his hands together and shushing people. 

“Okay,” he said, “I thought that we could have a bit of fun with this little gathering McGonagall has permitted —”

“Forced,” Ginny corrected under her breath.

“— us to have. I have a present for each of you.” A hum of whispers rose from the crowd, and Zabini held his hands up; they instantly fell silent and Ginny scoffed loudly. “It’s a Muggle tradition,” he explained as he bent down to lift the lid of a mysterious crate, “but I think it will be fun...and in the spirit of eliminating prejudice —”

He lifted something from inside the box and held it above his head with a flourish. For a second, no one said anything, and then the crowd began to laugh simultaneously. Ginny rolled her eyes; ugly jumpers? She could have arranged that with a bit of help from her mother, though next to the garment Zabini was currently holding aloft, pinched at either shoulder with thumb and forefinger, Ginny thought a Weasley jumper would look positively couture. 

“Are you expecting us to actually wear those things, Zabini?” Ginny called, effectively silencing the tittering crowd. 

The wizard lowered the jumper, folding it elegantly over one arm before turning his attention to Ginny. His lips twitched as though they longed to stretch into a wide smirk, and his eyes flashed with dangerous promise. “Yes, Sparky.” He caressed the stupid nickname with his tongue and Ginny ground her back teeth together to distract herself from the swooping sensation in her belly. 

She scoffed, keeping her expression neutral. “You’re out of your mind. They’re hideous.” She nodded towards the crate. 

“That’s sort of the point,” he said, condescension dripping from every word. 

The crowd laughed and a few faces turned to give her looks of annoyance. She sneered back at them; if they wanted to make a fool of themselves, well they could go right ahead, but there was no way she was going to —

“Come and grab your jumper, but don’t put it on just yet!” Zabini called, and then Ginny felt herself being pushed forward towards the bane of her existence. 

He stepped forward as she stumbled, catching her against his chest. “Scared, Sparky?” He smirked as heat flooded her cheeks, and then held out the jumper he had been displaying. Ginny stared at him for a second, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips in the best impression of her mother she could muster while embarrassment still ebbed and flowed within her chest. Then she snatched the garment from his hands and turned on her heel, stalking over to the fireplace; she needed to put as much distance between her and Zabini as possible. 

She fingered the material as she waited for the others to sort themselves out; it was surprisingly soft. His words echoed in her head, and while she would never admit to being provoked, the simple suggestion that she was a coward had really struck something within her. 

“On the count of three,” Zabini called, “we’re all going to put on our jumpers. Ready?” His eyes twinkled as he gazed out into the crowd, watching as the seventh and eighth years positioned their arms into the sleeves excitedly. “One, two, three!” 

Ginny sighed, but scrambled to lift the garment over her head and then tugged it down so that it covered her torso. The second the material had settled against her, a sensation like stepping into a warm shower washed over her. It trickled down from her hair, over her shoulders, coating her midsection and then legs...and then it was gone, leaving an odd feeling of disorientation. 

Sounds returned to her slowly, as if she was surfacing from a long time underwater. Nothing sounded familiar, the voices mingling in a way that did not instantly remind her of the noise of the previous party; a layer of panic seemed to have settled upon them and as her vision cleared, Ginny suddenly understood why. 

In front of her was a group of people - or at least she thought they were people - who were now sporting hideous disfigurements. As the realisation dawned on her, people began to move in every direction and Ginny was jostled about until her back was pressed against the stone wall closest to the window. The Giant Squid was waving from the other side of the glass pane, and as she frowned at it, Ginny caught her reflection. 

Her hair was gone, leaving her head bald and scaly-looking. Her eyes had widened to almost twice their usual size and were the colour of mustard. One eye seemed to sit a tad lower than the other, giving her a lopsided appearance. Her ears were large and stuck out from the side of her head in a way that was reminiscent of an elephant, and her nose was round and protruding, like a pig’s. 

She grimaced, but this only seemed to spur on the Giant Squid, who was now pressing himself against the glass in a way that made her fear that he would soon be joining them. A tap on the shoulder made her jump and turn quickly; she was faced with a perfectly good looking young man she had never seen before. 

“Hello,” he said, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “You seem to be the only non-hideous person in this room —” he waved a hand lazily behind him “— and I think that might mean something?” The inflection on the end of his sentence and the way his nose wrinkled told Ginny that he wasn’t any more sure of what was going on than she was. 

“I guess,” she said slowly. “Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” 

He nodded. “I’ll get us some drinks.” 

Ginny blinked as he turned and walked away, leaving her to find a spot away from everyone else. She passed a couple who seemed to have had their heads replaced with those of fish, their eyes following her movements eerily. There was another pair near the fireplace, one of whom sported an upside-down face, their chin waving in a deeply disturbing manner as they spoke rapidly to their partner. 

She finally settled in the corner closest to the entry to the common room, sitting on a random green cushion and waiting for the mystery man to reappear. 

“I got you Firewhiskey,” he said by way of greeting. 

She blinked in surprise as she accepted the crystal tumbler. Not many people knew she prefered Firewhiskey over butterbeer, the latter being too sweet for her taste. Most assumed that because she was female, she wouldn’t be able to handle the burning of a smooth sip of Ogden’s finest…

“Cheers,” her companion murmured, effectively bringing her back into the present. 

She clinked her glass against his and then brought it to her lips, relishing in the way the warm liquid soothed her raging insides. “So,” she said, forcing a small smile. “What do you think is happening here?” She waved her glass towards the rest of the room. 

He shrugged. “Beats me. Do you have any ideas?” 

Ginny frowned, thinking for a moment. Then she placed her tumbler on the ground beside her and moved her hands to grip the hem of her jumper. Despite the tugging and pulling, the garment would not move. 

“I might have a theory,” she growled, snatching at her glass again. She downed the contents in one go, earning an appreciative nod from her partner. Wincing, she stuck out her tongue and then continued, her cheeks flushed with anger and the sudden intake of alcohol. “I think the jumpers are cursed.” She tugged at the material of hers, pulling it away from her chest. “They’re designed to pair us up; probably for the purpose of House unity.” 

“You’re not a fan of House unity?” 

Ginny huffed. “I’m not against it, per se. I just don’t think this is the way to go about it - throwing everyone together in the dungeons, of all places...it seems like a disaster waiting to happen.” 

“It’s been okay so far,” he said slowly, his expression guarded. 

“So far,” she echoed softly, unwilling to argue further. 

“Do you like Quidditch?” he asked after an awkward silence, and relief flooded her veins at the sudden change of topic. For the next half an hour they discussed tactics, favourite teams, and the 1994 Quidditch World Cup. 

“I was there,” Ginny said. “Great game.”

“Really?” He whistled through his teeth. “That would have been amazing. Though...” he paused, cocking his head to the side “...were you there afterwards? When the Dark Mark appeared?” He spoke softly, but Ginny felt his words as if they were knives. 

She shivered involuntarily. “Yes. My dad was part of the group who had to go and help. I was only thirteen...my brothers got me home before I saw too much, but I saw...I saw enough.” 

It wasn’t something Ginny would have thought impacted her too greatly, but the memory of the Mark and the Death Eaters walking through the camp, the Muggles held aloft in the cool night air...it certainly had been a memorable - and eerie - experience. 

“You know, we’ve been talking all this time and I still don’t know who you are,” he said with a shy smile. 

Ginny laughed, grateful for the shift in mood. “I hadn’t even realised. “I’m —” Her throat clenched shut as if she had suddenly inhaled smoke from a particularly dense potion. Her eyes watered as she coughed, and she noted the heavy feeling of her tongue as it sat, useless, at the bottom of her mouth. She clutched at her throat as nothing but guttural choking sounds left her. “I don’t think I can tell you!” she finally gasped. 

“Really?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let me try asking you, and then you could just nod?” Ginny nodded and he shot her a winning smile. “Are you —?” 

If the whole situation had not been so frustrating, Ginny would have laughed at the way his face scrunched and turned a puce colour as he tried to enunciate anything other than choking sounds. His tongue lolled at the side of his mouth and tears formed at the corners of his eyes. “Nope,” he finally panted. “I guess this will just remain a mystery.” 

“I’m tired of mysteries.” Ginny sighed. “When this ends, I’m going to find the git responsible and unleash my most powerful Bat-Bogey Hex to date.” 

He chuckled at that. “I think mysteries can be fun. This one has definitely loosened everybody up, far better than a glass of Firewhiskey.” He nodded towards her empty tumbler and Ginny’s grip on it tightened. 

She narrowed her eyes but followed his gaze; the room was alive with a constant thrum of conversation as pairs huddled in corners or pressed together on sofas and armchairs. It was amusing, Ginny thought, to note the different appearances of her classmates, even if she had no idea who anyone was. 

“What do you think the point is?” she asked, turning back to her partner. 

“Probably something to do with House unity.” He echoed her earlier comment with the ghost of a smirk.

Ginny sighed, irritation clawing its way up her throat. She had enjoyed her conversation with her unknown partner so far, but Ginny was beginning to flag, especially after that last drink. Thinking longingly of her four poster, she opened her mouth to excuse herself, but before she could utter a word, he got to his feet and stretched his arm out, wiggling his fingers towards her. A small voice in the back of her mind protested at the thought of warm sheets and soft pillows, but she stamped it down as she accepted his hand.

When she was standing before him, he grinned and wrapped one of his arms around her waist before taking her right hand in his and twirling her experimentally. 

“Seriously?” She giggled.

Music began to play from an indiscernible source, and Ginny smiled as she lay her hand on his shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she had danced with someone, and though her steps were a little unsure at first, she felt incredibly warm and safe in the arms of this mystery man. 

He swayed them around in a tight circle, reminiscent of a basic waltz. Ginny lay her head on his chest and breathed in deeply, a sense of deep satisfaction settling in her belly as his lips brushed against her hair. 

“Do you think I’ll ever know who you are?” he whispered into her ear. 

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning as she pulled back to look him in the eye. “I hope so.” 

He regarded her for a moment, his gaze slipping to her mouth. Ginny’s breath caught in her throat and she licked her lips subconsciously. 

Time stood still as he leaned down, slowly inching his face towards hers. Impatience coiled in her chest and Ginny stood on tiptoe, effectively closing the gap and claiming his lips with hers. They were soft and warm, and tasted faintly of Firewhiskey. She pressed herself against him as his grip tightened on her waist, smirking to herself as a happy hum rumbled through his chest. 

It felt like the kiss would go on forever, fireworks bursting behind her eyelids as his tongue swiped over the seam of her lips. She was about to grant him entrance and deepen the kiss as his hand moved up to cup the back of her head, but then a clock began to chime. 

He pulled back suddenly, leaving Ginny dazed and cold. “Midnight,” he whispered. 

Ginny blinked, trying to re-orient herself. What did midnight have to do with anything? She let her hands fall back to her sides from where they had been resting against his chest and was about to ask that exact question when the clock struck twelve and her vision blurred. 

It was like a shower in reverse this time, the feeling of warm water lifting from her feet, up her legs, and over her torso. The jumper dissolved from the hem upwards and the sensation continued until it left her hair fluttering around her face. 

As her vision returned to normal, Ginny noted that the sounds of the room were once again familiar. She glanced around - everyone was back to normal. Which meant —

“Zabini,” she breathed, eyes wide. “What the —?” 

“Ginny,” he said, taking one of her hands in both of his. “Let me explain.” 

Her chest heaved as anger coursed through her veins, white hot and desperate for an outlet. “Explain what?” she spat, wrenching her hand from his grip and reaching for her wand - she had promised him a Bat-Bogey Hex, afterall. “That you tricked me into thinking —?”

“I didn’t trick you,” he said, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender. “The jumpers were charmed to pair up compatible partners.” 

Ginny blinked up at him, dumbfounded. Did he honestly think that they were compatible? He was arrogant and crass, and so, so annoying. Until last year, she’d barely looked at him...why would the charm work to draw them together? 

“The jumpers were designed by you.” Ginny pointed her wand at his chest. “I don’t know why you think messing with me is funny, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d go and find someone else to play with.” 

“I’m not playing, Sparky.” 

“Don’t call me that!” 

Zabini’s eyes flashed as he pressed his lips together. His nostrils flared and he glanced away from her, as if he was trying to regain composure. 

“Ginny,” he enunciated deliberately. “This isn’t a game to me. I had the jumpers made - I didn’t tamper with them. I thought it would be a good way to get those two —” he gestured behind him “— together.” Ginny craned her neck to see Hermione smiling up at Draco Malfoy, who was resting his hands on the brunette’s forearms. 

“What the —?” Momentarily forgetting her purpose as she tried to rationalise what she was seeing, Ginny’s arm dropped back to her side.

“It’s been building for ages.” Zabini shrugged, lowering his hands. “The point is, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, but there’s not been a chance for me to tell you because you seem hell-bent on avoiding me at all costs. Yet I felt that you weren’t exactly opposed to me as much as you are scared of what being attracted to me might mean.” 

“What could it mean?” Ginny asked, her voice hollow. She dragged her gaze back to his face and worked hard to keep her expression neutral, despite the swirling of uncertainty in her belly.

“Vulnerability. Acceptance. Letting go of past assumptions…” As he trailed off, his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach for her. 

Ginny shivered as the weight and reality of his words settled around her shoulders. This was completely insane; her head spun as she tried to make sense of it all. Blaise Zabini fancied her? That was more difficult to believe than the fact Draco Malfoy seemed entirely besotted with Hermione Granger. 

Zabini was arrogant and hell-bent on embarrassing her at every opportunity; he loved nothing better than to call out the stupid name he’d given her across a crowded hallway and watch as her cheeks flushed. He was forever bumping into her at the worst possible times, and that stupid smirk he wore made her want to hex everything and everyone in a ten-kilometre radius...

Then why did he go to all this trouble? An annoying voice sounded in the back of her head. She huffed; what did she care? 

She willed her voice not to shake as she raised her chin in what she hoped was a confident move. “You don’t know me,” she whispered.

“No,” he conceded, his eyes soft. “But I’d like to.” 

Her eyes grew wide at his words. His expression was open and hopeful, and Ginny felt her resolve crumble as at the same time burning irritation flared to life in her chest. Merlin, he was the worst. 

“Why?” she countered, unwilling to give in so easily. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear; Ginny wanted to step out of his touch, but her feet did not want to cooperate. “You’re funny, intelligent...and you’re the first girl who hasn’t thrown themselves at me; I like a challenge.” He grinned wolfishly, and Ginny almost melted on the spot. 

She arched an eyebrow, worried that if she were to answer him verbally that her voice would be too high, and the smug bastard would know just how close she was to throwing herself at him.

“Come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he whispered, stepping forward so that she was forced to look up to maintain eye contact. 

“Like on a date?” Ginny’s choked. 

“Yes, Sparky, a date.” Her eyes narrowed at the nickname, but this only seemed to encourage him. His right hand moved to caress her hip with sofy, barely-there movements and Ginny had to work hard not to let her eyelids flutter shut. “Please,” he said, his breath ghosting across her face, “let me take you out; if you hate it, I promise I’ll leave you alone after that. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

Ginny felt what was left of her resolve melt as she tilted her chin up and leaned forward to capture his lips with hers. He hummed in the back of his throat, taken by surprise at the bold move, but recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist. She pulled away before he could deepen the kiss, and nodded. 

“Fine,” she said. “One date.”

He grinned. “There’s that Gryffindor courage.” Ginny rolled her eyes, but allowed him to tug her back into his chest. “And until then…” Zabini took her chin gently, angling it upwards so that he could brush his lips against hers before claiming her mouth in a searing kiss which left her feeling dazed, and wanting more.

She could have stayed like that forever, she decided, but just as Ginny had fisted her hands into Zabini’s shirt, someone cleared their throat behind her. They broke apart and she turned sharply, coming face to face with Hermione. 

The brunette was smirking, though her eyes were decidedly glazed over. “Well played, Blaise,” she said, her gaze sliding from Ginny to the dark-haired wizard who was still clutching her hips. “You were right.” 

“I usually am.” He winked.

Ginny sighed. “What are you talking about?” 

Hermione indicated the room by spreading her arms wide and turning slightly from left to right. “Look around, Gin.” 

Ginny looked. Around the room, couples were sitting or standing together, engaged in various amorous activities. Luna was draped across Theo Nott’s lap, his hands tangled in her hair as he snogged her; Parvati Patil was giggling into the chest of a seventh year Slytherin boy; Neville Longbottom had Tracey Davis pressed up against the far wall, and Astoria Greengrass was straddling Romilda Vane.

“You paired us all off with Slytherins?” Ginny said, stepping out of his grip and staring pointedly at Zabini. 

He shrugged, a sheepish grin curling at his lips. “What can I say? We’re irresistible.”

Ginny sneered at him before turning her attention to her friend. “Speaking of, where is the Prince of Darkness?” 

Hermione flushed a deep crimson and opened her mouth to answer, but before she could utter a word, Draco Malfoy sidled up and wound an arm around her waist. He dropped a kiss on to the top of her head and Ginny was caught between wanting to vomit, and wanting to congratulate the pair; she settled for the latter.

“Well, if you two are now a thing,” Ginny said, nodding between them, “I dare say that inter-House unity has been successfully achieved at Hogwarts.”

Zabini grinned and conjured four glasses of Firewhiskey, levitating them towards each person until they each gripped a tumbler in their hands. “To House unity!” he called loudly into the crowd. 

“House unity!” The party-goers momentarily tore themselves away from their partners to cheer. 

Ginny clinked her glass with Zabini, Malfoy, and Hermione, before taking a sip. She smiled reluctantly around at the room, conceding that while he certainly had a twisted way of doing things, Zabini had been on to something with the ugly jumpers. She turned to tell him, albeit begrudgingly, but before she could open her mouth, Zabini had pulled her into his chest and lowered his face to hers.

“Merry Christmas, Sparky,” he murmured against her lips. 

Ginny grimaced and pulled away from him. “If this —” she pointed between them “— is going to happen, then you’re going to have to swear that you’ll never call me that again.” 

She was slightly shocked that the hideous nickname didn’t immediately have her reaching for her wand, but she wasn’t going to put up with it if she was going to be spending more time with the charming Slytherin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as Zabini nodded slowly. “I promise,” he said, tightening his grip around her waist.

Ginny grinned, but the expression was soon wiped off her face as Zabini ducked his head and pressed his lips firmly to hers. She chose not to argue as his tongue flicked out experimentally, and she slid her hands up over his shoulders, ignoring the catcalls from Malfoy and the fake gagging sounds from Hermione. 

I take it back, Ginny thought with a smirk as the kiss deepened. I might not kill Hermione Granger after all...

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta/alpha, ravenclaw-sass <3


End file.
